


Roses

by esmehoe



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Family Feels, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:07:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23775844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esmehoe/pseuds/esmehoe
Summary: Myrcella compares her mother to a rose.
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister (mentioned), Myrcella Baratheon & Cersei Lannister
Comments: 9
Kudos: 34





	Roses

Myrcella always knew her mother was beautiful. Everyone spoke of the beauty of Cersei Lannister, ‘the light of the west’ they would call her. From Winterfell to Dorne people daydreamed of the beautifulgolden queen. 

Myrcella was wandering the gardens in search of the most beautiful flowers to gift her lady mother. It was a special tradition of theirs, they’d done it since she was a young girl. Her mother had told her stories of how she used to search for sea shells with her own mother at Casterly Rock. Unfortunately the shells of Kings Landing weren’t nearly as beautiful, certainly not beautiful enough for her mother, so they’d settled for flowers. 

Each week they’d search the gardens of the Red Keep for a new bouquet to place in her mothers chambers. 

Today Myrcella was alone. Her mother had been too busy to accompany her to the gardens. Myrcella didn’t mind, this way she reasoned it would be a surprise. 

A cluster of deep red roses caught her eye as she rounded a sun filled corner of the gardens, her long dress dancing at her feet as she moved.

Roses had always reminded Myrcella of her mother; beautiful and passionate and red just like the Lannisters colours. They were also filled with sharp thorns that could make you bleed. 

Myrcella figured everyone had thorns, barriers and walls people would put up to keep people at a distance when need be. And when people didn’t respect those barriers, they’d get hurt. 

Myrcella reasoned her mother had many of those, many sharp thorns. She’d seen them when her mother and father would yell into the long hours of the night, and when her mother would speak quiet yet harsh words to her uncle Tyrion. 

Myrcella felt lucky for never falling victim to one of her mothers thorns. She heard stories from her handmaidens of how sharp their touch could be. 

They’d whisper when they thought she couldn’t hear. “Do not cross the queen, she has ears all over the capital and beyond. She’ll know if you disobey her.” 

At times, Myrcella didn’t like to hear those stories of her mother. She didn’t like to think of her mother as someone to be feared. Her mother was always warm and gentle with her. Her mother would brush her hair and tell her stories of the lions at Casterly Rock as she fell asleep. She couldn’t possibly be capable of the things people whispered about. 

Myrcella figured that perhaps her mother had control over when she brought out herthorns. She knew her uncle Jaime had the gift of knowing her mother without her thorns. 

That was when her mother was _truly_ beautiful. When her thorns and shields were down. When she’d smile so sweetly and laugh until her eyes glistened and when she’d hold your hand so softly as if it could break with the simplest touch. Those were the moments you saw the true beauty of Cersei Lannister, it didn’t matter if her dress was the finest silk or if her hair had been twisted into the most fashionable braids of the south. Her mothers beauty was sacred.

The beauty of Cersei Lannister was a rare one that few were privileged enough to see, and Myrcella knew she was lucky to be so accustomed to it. 

With a quick nod to herself she carefully plucked a handful of roses from the garden, placing them carefully into the crook of her arm so they wouldn’t prick her. 

She quickly made her way out of the gardens to fetch a vase with water so the flowers wouldn’t welt so quickly. She was so excited to show her mother, she hoped she’d like them. Perhaps if she _loved_ them, she’d grant her one of those extra special smiles that belonged solely to her and her brothers. ‘Yes’ Myrcella thought, she’d like that very much. 


End file.
